


Open Comm

by novembersmith



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Star Trek AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novembersmith/pseuds/novembersmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“As I have told you many times, Captain,” a pissy Vulcan voice said. Ray beamed down at his grungy, bleeding hands. “Asking Lieutenant Commander Person for reasons is highly illogical, as he will give them to you in unnecessarily hyperbolic and anthropomorphic detail, and we are often short on time.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Comm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oanja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oanja/gifts).



> Generation Kill IN SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE, basically. Also, uh, this got a little longer than expected, whoops. What can I say, Ray never shuts up.

“Come on, baby, you’re almost there, just give me – yeah, oh, fuck _yeah_ , beautiful, a little to the left—oh, baby, you’re good, you’re so—”

“Person, you do realize you’re on ship-wide comms,” Captain Fick’s voice, dry over the sexy, sexy purr of Ray’s ship coming to life beneath his hands. 

“You’re interrupting a very intimate moment, Captain,” Ray said, dangling upside down along a nacelle, nudging in the coupling that he’d just replaced from the grav-unit, because who had time for that when there were galactic slavers to outrun, space catfish to rescue, and a pulsing white dwarf threatening to go supernova? No one on the USS Bravo, that was for sure.

“Is there a reason my bridge crew is floating?”

“As I have told you many times, Captain,” a pissy Vulcan voice said. Ray beamed down at his grungy, bleeding hands. “Asking Lieutenant Commander Person for reasons is highly illogical, as he will give them to you in unnecessarily hyperbolic and anthropomorphic detail, and we are often short on time.”

“You say the sweetest things, Brad,” Ray cooed. “Don’t be jealous of the deep, pure love between a man and his ship. We sounded good, huh? I should charge for that shit, you think I’d be a good call girl, Brad? Hot man on machine action?”

“The USS Bravo is inanimate and incapable of the human emotion love. As I am incapable of the human emotion jealousy.” Oh so pissy, and also _so full of shit_. Adorable. Ray beamed and caught a passing, alarmed ensign before he bounced off the hydrocoil and careened straight into trouble with the hyperdrive stabilizer. Could be kind of fun, though – who knew where they’d end up?

“Maybe a warning next time,” Fick said, sounding both deeply amused and deeply distracted. “I take it from the fact that we haven’t disintegrated, you’ve succeeded in repairing the engines.”

“Roger roger. And don't worry, I rerouted an emergency powerlink to keep the grav on in medical, I’m no dummy,” Ray said absently as he welded the coupling into place, squinting at the sparks. He'd actually open the comm to warn everyone about the imminent gravity loss before getting distracted, but keeping med bay informed/stable was one thing Ray would _never_ forget to take care of. No one but no one fucked with Doc Bryan’s shit and lived to see the light of a warp core again. Dude was scary, and possibly part-Klingon. “And fucking goddamned right, I succeeded, success is my middle fucking name. Cap. And! I think if I cannibalize the rec room, I mean no one’s using the karaoke machine, right? I can get everyone back on two feet soon. Three feet, if you’re Ensign Hmiagh. Am I still on shipwide? Hey, Hmi, buddy, how’s floating? You're not in the mood for karaoke, right?”

A crackle on the comms, as though they were being covered by a hand. “How long’s he—oh.” Clear again: “You’ve been down there for three days, Person. Change shifts—“ 

“But my lady needs me,” Ray protested immediately, hugging the hyperdrive. 

“—with Officer Lilley and report to bed immediately. That’s an order.”

“Ooh, _sir_ —”

“And if you could stop driving your first officer into a frenzy of jealousy, it would be much appreciated.” Amusement, again. 

“I _am not_ in a fren—” he heard Brad say, before the comm link closed.

It was difficult to make himself transfer the reins over to Lilley, who was, like, barely older than fucking Trombley and didn’t know his dick from his dipstick, but Ray _did_ get kind of dizzy spinning over from the west engine room to the northeast, and what the fuck, he’d basically _grown up_ in zero-g, he didn’t _do_ dizzy. Plus, he lost a little bit of time thinking about how some droplets of Federation grade nano-graphene lubricant floating around all over the place kind of looked like that weird art project from the Vulcan museum on Terra that Brad had dragged them to, last time they were Earthside, and hey, was that shit safe for sex? There wasn’t a warning label against it, and—

Okay, maybe Ray could possibly use some sleep. It'd be hard to get there, still riding high on adrenaline and his slightly illegal stash of Terran Ripped Fuel, but he'd manage somehow. Maybe Doc could send some of the good stuff over, as thanks for his gravity.

Except then:

“Your language is fucking inappropriate for the public comms, Ray,” Brad informed him, standing with his arms crossed and his voice frosty when Ray palmed open the door to their rooms.

“You loved it,” Ray said, beaming, as he was immediately pinned to said door. “Miss me, sunshine?” His blond, cool, blue-eyed alien boy had _clearly_ missed him, he had his hands everywhere, all at once.

“It has only been 72.9 hours since we have seen each other. We have been separated longer,” Brad said, so: yes, he had fucking missed having his chief engineer and all-around tech wiz close at hand. He was mouthing at Ray’s neck as he spoke, and Ray arched into it, moaning beneath Brad’s tongue, then his teeth. The giant weirdo had a thing for Ray stinking of sweat and engine oil, was always fucking nuzzling into Ray’s grimy hair, his skin. “And I would not have appreciated your company on the bridge. You are inappropriate, ill-mannered, and distracting,” he said, before pulling back for a human kiss. Ray had taught him that, and there was something ridiculously hot and sweet about it at the same time, knowing he’d taught Brad that move with his teeth, that slide from open, shallow mouthing to deep, slick tongue. 

Better, too, when Brad added his hands to the mix in a Vulcan kiss, shuddering against him as they slid their palms together, entwined their fingers. 

“You're bleeding. You should have reported to the medical bay,” Brad said suddenly, hoarsely, pulling back to scowl at Ray’s skinned palms.

“Just a flesh wound,” Ray assured him, pulling him back in and shuddering at the touch, for a lot of reasons. “S’not really bad, just stings a bit. Like, it reminds me of when you took me over that rock on Vulcan, our first time, remember? Fucked me raw.”

“I remember it often,” Brad said, and brought Ray’s hand to his mouth for a kiss. Then the absolute alien _freakjob_ started cleaning Ray’s hand with his tongue, and the stinging, oversensitive sensation, combined with the intimate brush of Brad’s mind, possessive and intent, had Ray almost on the brink, zero to warp speed.

“Hah,” he interrupted, as Brad’s thoughts became clearer. “You _were_ jealous of me and my girl. I fucking knew it!”

Brad deftly spun Ray from the door and catapulted them across the room and into the bed, avoiding all the floating objects with deft precision. “Mmm, baby,” Ray purred, wriggling beneath Brad. “You were calculating angles and thrust and velocity, just then, huh? Fuck, that’s hot. Your physics gets me so hot, damn. Sex in zero-g, man, doesn’t usually go so well, like how do you fucking thrust? Fucking careen all over the damn place, no friction, but I bet _you_ could—”

“I have repeatedly asked you not to think of other sexual partners while you’re in bed with me, Ray,” Brad gritted out, glaring. “And I was not jealous of the ship, you dense fucking— _human_.”

“ _Your_ dense fucking human,” Ray gasped. He loved when Brad got like this, too emotional, too hot to be logical, and just started methodically ripping Ray’s clothes off with his Vulcan hands, strong and deft. “Oh, fuck, yeah—fuck, your fingers. Just like—ah, Brad, you’re—you’re so—”

“Yes,” Brad agreed, slightly breathless, which fuck yeah, revved Ray’s nacelles right up. “I do find it sexually compelling when you are performing mechanical feats outside the usual Federation capacity. I would prefer no one else did. Don’t talk like that on the fucking comms, Ray.”

“Got it. Only you get to hear me sweet—talking—fucking, oh, how are you so—coherent, you asshole,” Ray moaned, pushing back onto Brad’s fingers. Brad’s eyes were dark, and his ears were flushed green to the tips, and he looked so fucking – so fucking _into_ it, into Ray. Ray loved that Brad felt just as goddamned good fucking Ray with his fingers as Ray did, because fuck yes, that just made it so much better. And it was already so damned good. “I made, made you hot, huh? In public, too. Sorry, baby.”

“You’re not sorry,” Brad noted absently, before biting Ray’s nipple. “At all. You like it. Ray. How many times would you like to come?”

“How—what? I don’t care, just. Five. Sixteen. Infinite. Whatever you want. God, baby—”

“That is the long-term target, but you should sleep, soon,” Brad said, voice a deep rumble. “You’re a mess, Ray. Give me a short-term goal.”

“’m fine, you love it,” Ray said, and then came all over Brad’s fucking fingers when the asshole, the _asshole_ , said completely casually and calmly, “I love _you_.”

“Well, that’s one,” he heard Brad observe smugly, while Ray gasped under him like a Xindi-Aquatic.

“Fuck, you just—fuck,” Ray said, and surged up for a kiss. “Me, too. I love you, too, asshole, I—what the fuck brought that on?”

Brad shrugged a gorgeously muscled shoulder, staring down into Ray’s eyes. “The ship can’t say it back. I figured I should. Are you ready to sleep now? Your mind is unusually incoherent. Not that it's easy to tell.”

“Fuck, no, homes. Get ready for a marathon, I am wide-awake and I don’t go on shift until Beta. Unless Lilley fucks something up, or Fick gets tired of the z-g, or—”

“Request to be fucked to sleep, noted,” Brad said, and, well. Ray supposed it was sort of Captain’s orders. “Keep talking. I want to hear you.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Ray said, and figured maybe he’d leave the comm open on purpose, next time. Just not a ship-wide link.

Maybe.


End file.
